


Part Of You

by CanadianFreakshow, orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But it's Teen!Lock so anything can happen, Collaboration, Fluff, In which Sherlock is more human, Just lots and lots of unadultrated fluff, M/M, One Shot, Past and present(?) self harm, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianFreakshow/pseuds/CanadianFreakshow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He choked on his words as a chaste kiss was pressed to his chest, another lower, and yet another even lower. They were soft, and sweet, and tender... something John thought Sherlock was incapable of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part Of You

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started before the third season. Way before. And I just recently finished it. It's a collaboration done between me and a friend. She wrote for John, and I for Sherlock. Well, for the most part. Anywho, sorry for the hideously long intro and enjoy!

John Hamish Watson, captain of the football team, and Sherlock Holmes, a lonely misfit, had been together for a month or so now. Both attending Benedict High for Gifted Boys. They were roommates, keeping each other sane. They felt it may be time... time to go a little further. But there was one thing Sherlock had no knowledge of... John's scars....

 

John had many secrets to hide. A whole life before Sherlock had walked in but… it wasn’t a great one. Keeping those things from Sherlock had scared him at first and had kept him from wanting to be in a relationship in the first place but somehow his mind was able to be changed.

 

John wished not to divulge these secrets, even to the one he was closest to, Sherlock. These secrets were painful, unwanted, something he regretted... and would regret for the rest of his life. He was afraid that, one day, Sherlock would know of these secrets. It was inevitable. They would come out, sooner or later, it was just a matter of time.

 

Sherlock didn’t have deep dark secrets like John did. He wasn’t an open book but there was no painful ones other than his brother treating him like shit and parents ignoring him. He never really was affected by that fact and mostly kept to himself, silently judging everyone around him.

 

The school knew Sherlock was the resident gay. Most chose to ignore or tease him, even going so far as to lock him in a supply closet in his first week at the school. He may have been the smartest kid there, but it wasn't like that mattered to the others. 

 

John was the first student Sherlock met there and was the only person he had ever met /not/ to bother him about his sexual orientation. That had been his first reason to start liking the other boy. It was hard not to notice the football captain’s kindness and good looks when they were thrown together so often. They were forced to sit next to each other each class. Given assignments with each other. We’re even roomates and it led Sherlock to spiral down into a deep attraction to his colleague. 

 

Though Sherlock knew little about John and his life before meeting him, Sherlock had picked up on a few things. John looked strong, but really he was vulnerable. John was untrusting, distant at times, and occasionally even... cold. All of this... confused Sherlock. John seemed like such a jolly ball of joy at times, not having a care in the world, but he had seen him in the foulest of moods... he knew what John was like when he thought no one was looking....

 

Sherlock had become determined to figure out why John was like that. It was a way for Sherlock to stop being bored as he was more often than he would like. Sherlock hung out with John more and more paying close attention to everything he did. Everything he said which made his crush grow even more. Sherlock loved everything about John so far… especially that mysterious side... even if he didn’t know what the secret held.

 

Mystery was Sherlock's thing. He got off on it. For him, a life without mystery wasn't a life worth living. He was intrigued by John, he was like a twelve sided dice. Sherlock knew what a few sides were; a caring side, a soft side, an angry side, a sad side, and one of his favourites, a cute side. But the rest were mysteries... for now. 

 

Throughout the whole observing process Sherlock realized a little too late that he had fallen for John. Hard. Just the thought of the shorter blonde sent a smile to his lips. One day he could no longer hold back his feelings, letting them spill from his mouth and kissing John. John’s reaction was far from what Sherlock hoped it would be, leaving him quite heartbroken.

 

John had basically taken Sherlock's heart in his hands, ripping it in two. He felt shattered. He didn't attend classes for the next two days, sulking, smoking cigarette after cigarette. It felt worse than dying a thousand deaths. He would have happily done that instead of hiding away under his covers. Luckily, John had a change in heart...

 

It actually hurt John seeing Sherlock so hurt but... his heart simply wasn’t in it to be romantically involved, but he realized a while ago that he was attracted to Sherlock. John was scared but… seeing Sherlock so broken….so hurt… it reminded him of himself and John realized that he needed to follow his heart and his heart pointed to Sherlock.

 

He knew he needed to talk to Sherlock. He was tired of the one-sided conversations they had been having over the past few days. It stung. John asking if Sherlock was okay, getting either a grunt or just... silence. The silence hurt most. He felt like Sherlock was guilting him, and he was right. 

 

So John did what he knew was right. He talked to Sherlock apologizing for shutting him down and at the end of it, John revealed his feelings, kissing Sherlock. But John still didn’t tell the other why he had refused. The mysterious side was still there, stronger than ever and it made Sherlock even more curious.

 

As the time passed, Sherlock's attraction for John morphed into an undeniable infatuation. It was starting to take over his life, clouding his mind like a thick fog rolling in over a lake. He was having trouble navigating his own thoughts, and it was showing. It also was messing with him physically. Butterflies would flutter around in his stomach with even the smallest of John's smiles. 

 

Their relationship was strictly fluffy for the moment. They stuck to kisses, hugs, hand holding and both of them were fine with that. Okay, well maybe they had the occasional (or not so occasional) blowjob. But now that their one month anniversary was right around the corner, Sherlock started planning, covertly sneaking off to the drugstore on the weekend before the occasion. He had a plan for the perfect way to spend the romantic weekend.

 

\--

 

It was the day. The day Sherlock planned on finally making love to the one he loved. Exactly a month from the day John had admitted he had the same feelings that Sherlock had for him, he was giddy with excitement. Sherlock had the lubricant, he had the condoms, and had completed the room with little battery powered tea lights. He had skipped the days classes, making sure everything was perfect, and it was. He knew John would love it…

 

While Sherlock planned their perfect day John, as always, went to class. He needed to attend every class and get good grades to achieve his goal of being a doctor. Only Sherlock and one other were the people who supported his dream to become a doctor. John opened the door of their dorm and when he saw the romantic setting he gasped, smiling widely.

 

Sherlock, lying naked on the bed, smiled a cheeky grin, face illuminated by only the flickering light of the cheap little faux candles. “Quick, close the door,” his voice was just above a whisper, forcibly gravelly. 

 

John happily closed the door, locking it in succession and sauntered over to the bed smirking at his boyfriend. “Well hello there... what do we have here?” 

 

“My present to you, John dearest. Happy one month anniversary,” His grin only widened, eyes gleaming with mischief. He was holding something in his hand, but it was still too dark in the room to be able to tell what it was. It was small, though, long and skinny.

 

John grinned, dropping his bag at the foot of the bed. “Oh? A present for me? Whatever for?” A light blush was dusting his cheeks and he sat next to the exposed man laying on his bed.

 

“Actually, two presents. This,” He lifts the cheap champagne miniature, dangling it in the air. “Being one of them. It was all I could scrounge up. Alcohol is bloody expensive, especially this bubbly stuff…” Sherlock chuckles lightly, the corner of his eyes crinkling. It was truly a glorious sight; a naked Sherlock, seemingly happier than ever, body bathed in the light of tens of fake candles.

 

John stared at him, taking in every inch. Then, plucking the bottle from Sherlock’s hands, he read the label. “That’s very kind of you... and... the other present?” 

 

His face lights up, voice but a silky purr. "Glad you asked. Well... that gift is a little more, for lack of better words, sexual."

 

“Oh? Well then... I think this will be a wonderful anniversary,” John leans forward, his face a few inches from Sherlock’s. No logic was on his mind, just his desire for the man he cared about. 

 

Sherlock closes the gap between them, almost instantly. His lips crashed against John's, a passion consuming the both of them. His mouth moulds John's, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces... they were meant to be. Two peas in a pod. Made for each other. 

 

As their lips moved against each other, both of them were shakily trying to find where to put their hands and where to move. Especially Sherlock who was the virgin out of the two of them. All they knew was that they wanted to be together in more ways than one.

 

It may have not have been the perfect setting; a cramped school dorm, terrible ventilation, and walls almost as thin as paper, but... It was perfect to them. 

 

Sherlock’s hands finally found a place on John’s waist, slowly inching their way up his shirt. Every inch the shirt moved up and eventually John’s shirt was removed. When Sherlock broke the kiss to sneak a peek at his boyfriend’s bare chest... something he wasn’t quite expecting was revealed.

 

There were scars. Scars everywhere. Even fresh cuts. They marred the the beautiful skin of his chest, the pale flesh stripped with jagged marks. Sherlock's mouth formed a small 'O'. It was one of the occasions he was truly speechless. Were these self-inflicted? “John, what... What are these from?”

 

John stammered at first, only managing syllables of words. He hadn’t expected Sherlock to find out just yet. Here he was, caught in the moment; the second he had seen Sherlock’s naked body, the candles, and the bottle of champagne, everything that mattered flew out the window. 

 

Sherlock's brow was furrowed, a hand hovering over a scored pec. "John," he said, firmly, "what are these hideous marks from?"

 

"I– A razor—"

 

"I don't care how you did it, I want to know why," He cuts his boyfriend off, chest tightening as he ventures to run a thumb over one of the broader marks. 

 

"Why does anyone do anything?" John mutters, muscles flinching beneath the others careful touch, "One could say, someone does something for nothing."

 

Sherlock shook his head as a forefinger brushed over another pale blemish. "No, no... there is always a motive; ulterior or otherwise. With murder, there is a motive. One does not simply kill for nothing."

 

John gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Human nature isn't your strong suit, is it? I mean, y'know, some do kill without motive..."

 

"Nonsense," Sherlock removed his hand and gaze from John, pushing his naked self up.

 

John remained laying, watching the other carefully. 

 

The nude man crawled over John's reclined body, hands on either side of body in question. "Change of plans."

 

"Sherlock? Might I enqui—"

 

He choked on his words as a chaste kiss was pressed to his chest, another lower, and yet another even lower. They were soft, and sweet, and tender... something John thought Sherlock was incapable of. Most of their kisses were passionate and forceful, leading to one of them sucking off the other. But this, this was different. 

 

"Sherlock, you don't have to, well, this," John shifts, blinking back an inevitable tear. 

 

"John, nonsense, again," he lifted his head to give his lover a stern look that didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes filled with what one might assume to be thinly veiled compassion. 

 

John surrendered with a shaky sigh, tensed body relaxing into the creaky mattress.

 

Sherlock dropped his head back down, arms giving the slightest tremor as he lowered himself back down to continue his kissing. Nose nuzzling and trailing after the light pecks. 

 

As Sherlock worked his way down John's abdomen, John found himself knotting his fingers into the low thread count sheets, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

 

"Where else?" 

 

"Huh?" John snapped to attention, lifting his head to see Sherlock staring at him, dim light flickering in his eyes and across his face. "Oh-h... My thighs..."

 

Sherlock nodded, shimmying down the others body to get to the button and fly holding the jeans snug to his waist. Thoughtfully, Sherlock undressed John, asking him if he was comfortable. 

 

"I— I'm fine, just fine," he sniffles and rubbed away a tear with a fisted hand. 

 

What Sherlock saw when he dropped his gaze back down to John's newly naked body made his stomach knot. Even in the weak light, the deeper scars were noticeable. "John, my John, what a mess you have made..."

 

John sighed, eyes flickering shut. "I-I'm sorry, I just—"

 

"I love them just as I love you," Sherlock interrupts, licking the length of a particularly prominent scar. "They... complete you. They are part of you. They are done by you."

 

Words caught in John's throat; a strangled, conflicted noise echoing out instead. He pressed his thighs together, tears spilling out and streaming down the sides of his cheeks. 

 

"Shhh..." Sherlock's kissed his way down the left thigh, then began his descent down the right, taking extra care with each ghostly line. On the last, he whispered, "Beautiful, strong John... Won't you give me your razors?" 

 

"Ye-es," John's croaks out, hands pulling at the bed sheets as he gives a jerky nod. 

Sherlock smiled, softly, climbing back up John's chest for a long, drawn out kiss. "So this is why you insisted on keeping your clothes on every time I blew you..."


End file.
